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Dean glowered at the bed. Not at its rumpled state or the horrendous floral print of the bedspread, but at the angel sprawled across it- the bloody, broken, dishevelled (and not in what Dean would consider a good way) angel sprawled across it. Dean knew it was illogical, but that didn't keep him from pacing angrily around the bed. He'd sent Sam out for food- burgers and beer and the largest plate of pie (Dean didn't even care what kind) he could find. He'd also told Sammy to take his time, he wanted a chance to talk to their resident angel.
Once he'd tired himself out pacing, Dean filled the complimentary ice bucket with water and grabbed a towel. Leaning over his angel, he began dabbing at the blood caking around his face. "God damn-it, Cas, you promised me," he growled, rinsing the bloody corner of the towel in the bucket. "You swore. I thought I could at least trust you- you were different." ‘You were mine,' he thought to himself as he wiped more blood from Cas' face. Dean kept working to remove the dark, too human- too mortal blood. As he rubbed and dampened, rubbed and dampened, over and over, trying to clean his precious angel, Dean's eyes began to slowly lose focus. The repetitive motions allowing his vision to blur.
After his third attempt to wipe a particularly thick trail of blood from the corner of Castiel's unmoving mouth, Dean slumped, wiping at his now misty eyes.
"Damn-it Cas," the anger of the outcry belayed by the frustration in his voice and his bowed head. Clenching his jaw, "You promised."
"I swore to follow," the quiet, murmured sound still holding it's earthy timbre, "if I felt them leave, and I have kept that promise."
Dean jerked back, eyes wide and moist. "You son-of-a-bitch," voice harsh and rough, whether with anger or some other emotion wasn't clear. He took a deep almost calming breath, "Why are you still here?" he demanded.
Cas managed to raise his hand to grab Dean's clenched fist. His fire touched blue eyes imploring Dean to listen. "They haven't gone," he said simply.
"Then why?"
The angel sighed heavily and tried to push himself into a sitting position; only managing the feat with Dean's assistance.
"I told you my power is greatly decreased, even with the continued presence of other angels my powers have and will continue to wane."
Dean shook his head, settling a hard gaze on his angel, "Christ, Cas, way to play with semantics." Dean sighed, "I want you safe."
The angel smiled sadly, "If I went with them, I would be far from ‘safe'." Cas explained.
Quirking his eye, Dean tried to understand. His eyes widened in something akin to horror, "Bible Camp."
"If I'm lucky," Castiel admitted. "Despite your mythos, angels are not compassionate creatures by nature. Any form of rebellion is dealt with in the harshest manner." The sad smile still played at the angel's lips, "‘Bible Camp' was enjoyable in comparison."
"You knew you would die mortal if you rebelled?" Dean asked horrified.
"I was aware that it was a very real possibility," the angel stated flatly.
"Well, it's not gonna happen," the hunter growled. "You're not gonna die and you sure as Hell aren't gonna die human!"
"Dean, you may have to accept that human is precisely how I will die. But to die as one of Father's favoured creations is an honour. To experience life at your side will be a blessing."
Images of that horrific future ran rampant in Dean's mind. "Okay, first of all, Cas, you gotta stop talking like that. It's NOT an option!"
The angel's fathomless blue eyes answered Dean's declaration, a twinkle of hope buried deep in their depths. "Dean," a weak hand brushed the hunter's cheek.
"We'll find a way, Cas," he closed his eyes and welcomed the warmth of his angel's touch as he turned and pressed a kiss to his palm. "I'll find a way."